Mistaken Identity
by Memoirs of the Haberdashery
Summary: Five times Canada is mistaken for someone's boyfriend and one time his own is around to stop it. France/Canada and Canada/Various with several side pairings mentioned.


**Summary: **Five times Canada is mistaken for someone's boyfriend and one time his own is around to stop it.

**Rating: **T, just be be safe.

**Pairings: **France/Canada, Canada/Various; Side America/England, Sweden/Finland, Greece/Japan, Lithuania/Poland, Germany/N. Italy, Prussia/Austria

**Warnings: **Mentions of alcohol use, mild swearing, and mentions of sexual activity.

**A/N: **Hello again~ This past week I was forced to take _practice_ standardized tests and literally had nothing to do for like an hour every morning after I finished. And thus, an idea was born. Because of my friend's sudden interest in "5 Times" fics, I decided to write a bunch and force her to read them all. I'll be posting the next five parts of this as I get them done, so the next part should be out by Tuesday. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Hetalia, I wouldn't have to write this disclaimer.

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><p><em>The first time it happens is actually somewhat understandable.<em>

Matthew attempted to blend in further with the forest green wall he was currently resting on, but, due to the obnoxiously bright sweater his brother had insisted they both wear, it was harden than usual to just disappear. In fact, the Canadian had the sneaking suspicion that everyone in the over-crowded room was glaring at him. Blaming it on his lack of self-confidence, he shoved his paranoia aside and resumed the task at hand.

It seemed that nearly every nation in the northern hemisphere was cooped up in Arthur's manor, a shocking statistic considering the usual attendance of his annual Christmas party. The only countries missing appeared to be Gilbert, Antonio, Francis, and their respective dates.

'_Except for me!_' His subconscious helpfully added. Matthew and Francis had finally begun dating a few months before after an incident involving whipped cream at a World Conference that everyone had vowed never to speak of again.

"_Alfy!_" The host's voice woke him from his love-induced reverie. The nickname had been terribly slurred, though the way the Englishman wobbled over to his corner made it more than obvious that Arthur had downed several drinks. "There you are! I... I've been looking for you _EVERYWHERE!_" His statement was punctuated by a loud fit of giggles.

"A-Arthur, you do know tha-"

He was once again cut off by - a now pouting - Arthur. "You didn't call me _'Artie''._ You _always_ call me 'Artie'. You... you..." He paused, searching for the word. "You idiot! You know what? I won't cook you _anything_ until... until you call me 'Artie'."

"But-"

"Do- don't you DARE," He hiccuped. "Say anything about my culinary skills! I've been _practicing._" He let out an indignant huff, but his face looked like he was more queasy than offended.

Matthew gulped before trying to reason once more. "A-_Artie,_" The term felt almost wrong coming from his mouth. "I'm not... I'm M-"

"Wait!" Arthur seemed to have not heard any of his previous statement and was instead pointing at the ceiling above their heads, a look of awe already in place.

Matthew blanched.

"Mistletoe!" The grin lighting the Englishman's face was wide and fairly disconcerting.

"_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..._" Matthew's eyes were saucers behind his wire-rimmed glasses and it was all he could do to wish that he was his usual shade of transparent.

"Kiss me, Alfred." Green eyes darkened and lowered as Arthur backed the Canadian further into corner.

"It's... I'm not... _Maple._" Matthew desperately tried to cover his face, but it was too late. Alcohol-tainted breath ghosted over his parted lips and a surprisingly strong grip kept him from running away. Just as his lips were about to be forcefully claimed, Arthur was torn away. He shivered lightly at the loss of heat, but was more than grateful for whatever had saved him from that horrific situation.

Matthew opened his eyes, which had been clenched shut not twenty seconds before, and glanced around. A dazed Arthur swayed next to the actual Alfred, who was as smug as ever.

The Canadian shook his head and left the room to find his coat. After nearly being molested by his brother's boyfriend, the only thing he wanted to do was to go home and sleep.


End file.
